


B Sides

by Granger4013



Series: The Warehouse Anthologies [2]
Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music Store, F/F, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2018-09-15 04:52:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9219701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Granger4013/pseuds/Granger4013
Summary: A collection of future snippets set after Put Your Records On ended.  Updates won't necessarily be linear, but will simply be glimpses into where our merry gang of musicians find themselves throughout the years.In this world, there will always be chaos and craziness, but there will also always be the eight of them and their time-honored traditions.  There will also always be Myka and Helena, seeking to find whatever time together that they can, even amidst that chaos.





	1. Safe and Sound

**Author's Note:**

> So, WELCOME BACK!!
> 
> I had always said that there would be some future snippets for Records somewhere along the way, and last week, as life in this world continued to be crazy, and as the New Year approached, I just decided to hell with it, I wanted to ring in the New Year with a return to this weird, wild world of swagger and chaos. 
> 
> For some context, this takes place 3 years after Records ended, finding this merry band of musicians in some wildly different situations and some situations that are so very familiar. I could fill you in on what's gone on in the interim, but then where would the fun be in reading this and discovering it for yourselves? (Also, then where would the fun be in other future snippets to fill in that time?!)
> 
> Song for this chapter is by Taylor Swift ft. The Civil Wars
> 
> Anyway, a belated Happy New Year to all of you. I hope 2017 is filled with laughter, love, and, ya know, a little bit of chaos.

_Bering & Sons Bookstore, Colorado Springs, Co., New Year’s Eve, 2016_

“Shit…I am so late,” Myka mumbled to herself, fumbling to find her key into the bookstore amidst the myriad of other items currently taking up residency in her hands. Finally, after another solid thirty seconds of swearing and fidgeting, she forced her key into the lock and stumbled into the darkened, empty bookstore. By instinct, she wove her way through the shelves and the aisles, maneuvering her way towards the back and the door that led up to her parents’ apartment.

She took the steps two at a time, willing herself to simply move and not trip; the last thing they needed tonight was ending up in the hospital because she had broken an arm, a leg, an _anything_ all because she was rushing because she was so woefully _late_. She had had every intention of leaving the studio _on time_ , because it _was_ New Year’s Eve and they had plans and “why on earth are you even going into the office?” It had been the first thing Helena had asked as Myka had gotten her things around that morning.

Myka had sighed, knowing that there was no real reason to go in beyond her own nagging sense of responsibility and the weight of _being behind_ that had been hanging on her shoulders like she was Atlas and the studio was the world ever since she had gone back to work in September. She had walked back across the living room, leaving a lingering kiss on Helena’s lips, “I just have a few things to take care of, things I want to make sure are completely out of my mind so we can have the next few days together.”

“Without you constantly looking like your head is going to explode from the sheer amount of things your inventorying in that gorgeous brain of yours?” Helena had smirked.

“I could not have said it better myself. I just…I want to make sure that everything is ready for when Liam comes in next week.”

Helena had chuckled lightly, tracing a finger along Myka’s forehead and tucking stray curls behind her ear, “My diligent, darling wife…go, _work_ , we’ll see you this evening at your parents.”

 _We’ll_ …Myka was still somehow getting used to that, even six months later. She gave Helena another kiss goodbye before kneeling down onto the floor and leaving at least her _fifth_ goodbye kiss to Charlotte’s forehead, while Charlotte giggled and continued to kick to her little six month old heart’s content, completely oblivious to anything else going on around her. Myka nuzzled her nose against Charlotte’s cheek, eliciting another high-pitched gurgle, “I love you, Sweet Pea. Be good for Mum…”

A snort of incredulity escaped Helena’s throat as Helena kneeled down next to Myka, fingers reaching out to tickle at Charlotte’s stomach, “As if this one is ever _anything but good_ for me. You leave all the chaos for Mommy don’t you, Sunshine?”

Myka rolled her eyes, “I’m _doomed_ aren’t I? You two are just going to form a little chaos-causing contingent against me, and my life will never again have peace and quiet…”

Helena gave Myka a beaming smile, “What fun would it be if everything was peaceful and quiet? Also…since _when_ has our life _ever_ been such a thing, even before this one?” She nodded towards Charlotte.

“Touche, Swagger.” Myka sighed, unable to tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her, the sheer domesticity of it, the happiness that exuded from every corner of their house, “If I don’t leave, I’m never going to…”

“And then you will be cranky…”

“And cranky is not allowed on New Year’s Eve…”

“Not when it’s our first night alone together in months, absolutely not.”

“You act like you have some sort of _intentions_ for me, Swagger,” Myka blushed slightly, despite the smirk tugging at her lips. 

“Oh I have _all kinds_ of intentions…”

Myka pushed a finger against Helena’s lips, “Stop right there. You will _not_ corrupt this child with whatever filth is about to spill out of your mouth.”

“She’s _six months old_ , Myka, she could not care less what I am about to say. You just don’t want me corrupting _you_ ,” Helena teased.

“I believe my corruption occurred years ago…there I was all sweet and innocent, and you just destroyed it.”

“Jesus…” Helena groaned playfully, “I believe that is the biggest load of bollocks I’ve ever heard.”

Myka stood up, scratching a hand down the back of Helena’s head, “I’m leaving now, otherwise you will subject me to more of your _wiles_.”

Helena rolled her eyes with an endeared smile, “Oh yes, because you absolutely despise my wiles, love.”

Myka laughed softly, dropping another kiss to Helena’s head, “I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you too…I’ll be there, waiting with corruption in the wings apparently.”

Myka shook her head with a smile, “I look forward to it.”

With thoughts of Helena’s smirk in her mind and echoes of Helena’s corruption in her ears, Myka finally made her way into her parents’ living room, breathless and red faced from her sprint up the stairs. Jeannie shot her a smile and a teasing grin from the couch where she was bouncing Pete’s youngest son, Jace, up and down, eliciting a cacophony of giggles from him, “You’re late dear daughter.”

Myka groaned, dropping her bag by the door, “I know…I got a bit caught up and then traffic was _awful_.” She grimaced, “Is Helena mad?”

Jeannie rolled her eyes, “No…she just said something about increasing your corruption as punishment, which I _do not want to know_ what that means, so I didn’t even ask.”

Myka’s cheeks flared with a surge of red, “That…that was probably a good call. Is she in the nursery?”

Jeannie nodded, returning her attention to Jace, whispering to him, “Take a lesson Jace, never leave your future wife or hubby hanging…it gets you in trouble. Invest in a watch…”

“He’s Pete’s son, that boy will never be on time for _anything except dinner_ ,” Myka joked.

“Oh Lord if that isn’t the truth, “ Jane Lattimer exclaimed emerging from the kitchen with her hands on the shoulders of Pete and Amanda’s oldest son, J.P. who was balancing a plate filled with cookies in his hands. She gestured to him, “Case in point. My grandson the cookie monster.”

J.P. giggled, “ _Cookie monster_. Daddy.”

“Well, he learned _that_ early. They’re going to eat Amanda out of house and home one of these days, I swear,” Myka said.

“God bless that woman. A house filled with Lattimer boys…” Jane shook her head with a sigh.

“She basically has three toddlers at home, poor woman,” Myka grinned playfully.

Jane sat next to Jeannie on the couch, blowing a raspberry against Jace’s cheek, “Maybe this one will inherit a bit of Amanda’s sweetness.”

Laughter burst out of Myka’s lungs, “Oh I am just going to go find Helena because _I_ will not be the one to destroy your image of your daughter-in-law.”

Jane waved a hand at Myka dismissively, “Yes, yes, leave us grandmothers to our rose-colored view of the world and the wondrous, perfectly innocent pictures we have in our heads of all of you.”

Myka leveled an incredulous look at Jane, “You have an _innocent_ picture in your head of _Pete_? Are we talking about the same person? Your son? My best friend? _The cookie monster_ himself?”

J.P. laughed from his place sprawled out on the floor with his toys, a cookie crumbling in his mouth, “You’re funny, Aunt Myka.”

“She’s something…” Jeannie remarked.

Myka grinned with a crinkle of her nose, “You all _adore_ me…or at least J.P. does and now I’m going to find the other two people in this house who do as well.”

“They’re in the nursery,” Jeannie idly commented, her full attention already back on the bouncing toddler in her arms.

Myka drifted to the back of the apartment, sparing a quick second to pop her head into her dad’s office to say hi. Her words ended up directed to the top of his head, as he was hunched over his desk, scribbling away at paperwork, but he paused enough to say hello back, even going so far as to add his own contribution to the “you’re late” chorus.

Myka groaned, her head tipped against the door frame, “Of that I’m woefully aware, Dad. Thanks.”

He gestured towards the paperwork on his desk, “You’re not the only one working on New Year’s Eve, as you can see.”

“Are you really working or avoiding the lovely combination of the grandmothers and the Lattimer gang?”

A small, almost indecipherable smile pulled at the corner’s of Warren’s mouth, “Of course I am working…”

“Uh huh, I’ll be sure to tell Mom that if she asks…”

“You do that, and I won’t say another word about your tardiness…”

“It’s a deal.” She gave him a quick wave before exiting, “Happy New Year, Dad.”

“Same to you, Myka. Now stop stalling. Blame your Bering work ethic, see if that wins you any points with your wife over your lateness.”

Myka chuckled, “Somehow, I don’t think that will fly.”

“It never does…believe me…I’ve been trying for decades.”

By the time Myka finally made it to the nursery she was so _beyond late_ that she was helpless to think of any excuse that would help her cause. Yet once she got there, the image before her was enough to halt her in her tracks, feet powerless to move, unable to do anything but stop and stare. She still hadn’t quite adapted to the idea of this room, _her old room_ , being the _nursery_. She still saw it in her mind’s eye as it was when she had moved out, bookshelves laden with paperbacks, stacks of records piled in the corner, only now that mental image was crammed inside a room coated in pale greens and yellows. Her parents had been insistent about the transformation from the moment she and Helena had told them she was pregnant. They declared that between the band’s schedule and Myka’s schedule, they were going to need to rely on a heavy dose of grandparent babysitting, and so Jeannie and Warren had dove into it headfirst. They had spent months renovating the house, declaring that they should have converted Tracy’s room long ago for Ethan and if they were going to do it, they might as well go all out. So now, their apartment boasted of a room chock full of toys for whenever Ethan spent the night and a nursery for both Olivia and Charlotte to share. 

In some ways it still stole Myka’s breath away, to see the ways that her parents had shifted and rebuilt their lives around the kids, yet what truly brought her stock still in the doorway was Helena…Helena with her back to the door, slowly swaying back and forth with Charlotte curled into her shoulder; Helena whose hair was cascading in a bright shimmer down her back, having let it grow out over the year while the band hunkered down to write and record; Helena whom Myka could hear humming low in her throat some tune Myka couldn’t put her finger on. It was almost too much to take in, the vivid image of her life right before her eyes, her daughter and her wife moving in such quiet, peaceful harmony. It was something she still wasn’t used to, wasn’t sure she’d _ever_ be used to, the groundswell of thankfulness that wrapped warm and thick around her ribs anytime she saw them together, squeezing in on her until she was breathless and utterly unsure how she had gotten so lucky.

Deciding to try and get pregnant had at once been the easiest and the hardest decision they’d ever made together. The concept was one which they both knew they _wanted_ , but the reality proved more difficult to wrap their minds around. There had been constant, hours long conversations about how they would handle parenthood given the complications and constraints of their lives. How would they handle Helena going on tour? How would they deal with the long hours that Myka put in? How would they balance their life _together_ after they’d thrown another person into the mix of their family? Those things along were difficult enough to process on their own even without adding Helena’s past into the equation. She had vacillated heavily on the subject for months once they’d started talking about, torn between the utter joy she felt at the concept and the abject fear of possibly having to live through loss again. They had cried and talked and researched and planned and cried and talked some more, but eventually they had decided it was what they both truly wanted. 

It hadn’t worked the first time, and the pain they had both felt at that had been palpable enough to make them reconsider, but they had fought through it, and decided they weren’t willing to give up at the first bump in the road. The second time, they had ended up with Charlotte, named after Lottie, who had, much totheir shock and utter devastation passed away before they had even gotten to tell her they were expecting. Helena had borne the loss with a heavy sense of gratitude that they’d gotten so much time together, and that in some ways the child they were bringing into the world would be a hopeful counterpoint to Lottie’s absence. When the doctor had told them, after hours upon hours of labor, that it was a girl, it hadn’t even been a question of what her name would be. Myka, even in her exhausted and slightly delirious state had said it first, and Helena, with tears in her eyes had readily concurred, with one caveat. If the most important woman in her life got an acknowledgement, than the same had to go for Myka’s. Myka vaguely remembered crying more at that declaration, and then being a complete emotional mess when they finally, _officially_ named her Charlotte Jean Bering-Wells.

Once she had arrived, Myka didn’t know how they had even wavered for a second at the thought of having her. With her, their life seemed to shift and settle into what it was always meant to be, and looking at Helena and Charlotte now, their heads settled together, Myka wondered if she had ever been so happy. 

She settled against the doorjamb, unable to bring herself to disturb the serenity of the moment. Eventually, as Helena moved and shifted around the room, Helena caught Myka’s reflection in the window, shooting her a serene, though mildly teasing smile. Myka stayed were she was, her eyes never leaving Helena’s in the window, wanting to savor the moment for just a few more seconds. Finally, she pushed away from the door, padding gently into the room and wrapping her arms around Helena’s waist, resting her chin on Helena’s unoccupied shoulder. She pressed a kiss right below her ear, whispering, “Hey Swagger.”

A contented sigh escaped Helena’s lungs as she shifted to rest her head against Myka’s, “Hello my love.” There was the slightest beat and Myka knew what was coming but couldn’t quite get there fast enough to head it off. Helena nudged against her head slightly, “You’re…”

“ _Late_ …I know…” Myka grimaced. “I am so sorry. Things got a little hectic. Fargo ended up showing up and we started talking about our meeting with the contractor for the expansion and suddenly, the time was just gone.” Much to Myka’s surprise, a soft wave of Helena’s laughter filled the room. Myka eyed her with curious suspicion, “Ok…you laughing was _so not_ how I expected this reception to go.”

Helena shifted so that she could ease Charlotte into Myka’s arms without waking her, stretching her back once her arms were free. She gave Myka a teasing grin, “Claudia texted me earlier that we needed to remind you both that you were supposed to be spending the evening with us, rather than each other. Once she told me Fargo was there, well, honestly, you’re earlier than I expected.”

Myka’s ears tinged an embarrassed shade of pink, “That is wildly pathetic on Fargo and I’s part.”

Helena shrugged, rolling her neck on her shoulders, “This expansion is a big deal, Myka. I do not begrudge you one second of the time you’re putting in getting it ready.”

Myka ran a soothing hand through the soft down at the back of Charlotte’s head, dropping a kiss to her forehead, which carried the distinct smell of Helena’s perfume, “Yeah, well, I think I begrudge us the fact that we decided to do this mere months after I got back from maternity leave.”

“Well, no one ever said you and Fargo were particularly _logical_ with these sorts of things.”

“Typical Bering and Wells fashion, right? Why not basically double the size of your business the same year you have a kid, totally makes sense. Not chaotic at all.”

“Hey…” Helena looked at her amusedly askance, “do not lump _me_ into that decision making process. This was a _Bering and Fargo_ specialty, I’m simply along for the ride.”

“We’re a package deal, Swagger. _My_ stupid decisions become _your_ stupid decisions by proxy. It’s all part and parcel of that ring on your finger.”

Helena rolled her eyes, “Somehow I missed that part of our vows.”

“I conveniently slipped it in there very subtly. In fact, it was so subtle you probably didn’t even hear it.”

“Late _and_ insufferable.”

“Now _that_ is a Bering specialty if I’ve ever heard one.”

Helena chuckled softly before glancing down at her watch, “If we’re going to be able to get dinner before meeting everyone, we probably need to be going, love.”

Myka sighed heavily, nestling closer to Charlotte. She was immensely grateful that her parents had offered to take her for the night, that Jane had done the same for Pete and Amanda with the boys so that they could all maintain their New Year’s traditions, yet now that she was here, the thought of leaving was stifling. She eyed Charlotte’s sleeping form, cradling her tighter, “Was I so abhorrently late that I missed the singing?”

Helena’s voice left her in a breathless sort of contented sigh, “No, I wouldn’t have let you miss that. Although our daughter didn’t exactly wait on bedtime.”

“Do lullabies still count if you’re already asleep?”

Helena shrugged, “If she’s against it, I’m sure she’ll wake up and let us know.”

It had become an immediate tradition, practically from the first night that they had brought her home. It didn’t matter that once she fell asleep it was only a few hours until she was awake again, they always made sure that bedtime, whenever it might be, came with a song. 

Helena slipped around to Myka’s other side, settling an arm around her waist so that Charlotte was well tucked between them. She gave Myka’s waist a squeeze, “What shall it be tonight, love?”

“Your pick, Swagger. I’ll follow wherever you take me.”

Helena contemplated for a only a moment. Her eyes sweeping across Myka and Charlotte, a contented smile gracing her features as she began to sing softly.

_“I remember tears streaming down your face when I said I’ll never let you go…when all those shadows almost killed your light…”_

The effect was immediate. It happened every time that Myka listened to this song, tears were in her eyes in an instant. They’d written it the summer before they’d gotten married while Helena had been on tour. Knowing that their wedding was quickly coming, Myka had had a harder time watching Helena leave. It hadn’t helped that Myka had been in the midst of working on three separate projects and thus knew she wouldn’t be able to take as much time off to visit as she would have liked. The morning Helena had left, Myka had been practically inconsolable, unable to fully articulate all the reasons why she was completely unable to watch Helena leave.

Helena had cradled her face between her palms, leaving one, last, delicate kiss to Myka’s forehead and whispered, “I’ll never let you go, darling. I’m leaving, but I promise you…I’m not _leaving_.”

The next morning, Myka had woken up to an email like so many others that had passed between them. The subject heading simply being, “I miss you…” and the lyrics Helena had just sang the only lines in the text.

They’d ended up writing the entire thing back and forth over the course of a few days, though it required less lyric invention than usual, since most of it ended up being simply a verbatim copy of the conversation they’d had the morning Helena had left.

They’d come so far from that morning, survived more tour dates and new albums, and yet this song, this song always took Myka directly back to those moments when it felt so hard. Myka settled deeper into Helena’s arms, trying to get as close to her as possible without squishing Charlotte too tightly and let her voice filter in and over Helena’s for the rest of the verse.

_“I remember you said don’t leave me here alone…but all that’s dead and gone and passed tonight…”_

Myka had been at her most desperate, her most uncertain when she’d dared to let those words spill out of her mouth. She’d felt pathetic and needy saying them, but she couldn’t stop them even if she’d wanted to. All she had been able to do that morning was twirl Helena’s engagement ring around her finger and tell her that she didn’t want to be alone all summer.

Helena had held her, let her cry, and then urged her to lay back down in bed, smoothing the curls away from her forehead and whispering to her the words that they started singing together.

_“Just close your eyes…the sun is goin’ down…you’ll be alright…no one can hurt you now…come morning light…you and I’ll be safe and sound…”_

It had been Helena’s small way of promising her that even though they were apart they were still fundamentally, inextricably _together, always_. It was a promise that they’d be each other’s last good night and first good morning, no matter what happened, no matter the hours they kept. They had each other.

At the sound of their combined voices, Charlotte stirred on Myka’s shoulder, her eyes that were the exact green of Myka’s, cracking open the barest amount before a tiny smile tugged at the small bow of her mouth and she closed them again, returning promptly to sleep.

Their combined smiles were enough to light the room for them, so perfectly settled in the moment with each other. They both knew they didn’t need to keep singing, but they did anyway, savoring the moment for a while longer.

_“Don’t you dare look out your window…darling everything’s on fire…the war outside our door keeps ragin’ on…”_

Helena’s voice faded out, letting Myka finish the verse once again.

_“Hold on to this lullaby…even when the music’s gone…”_

They sang a few more iterations of the chorus before letting their voices quiet, a slow trickling fade until there was nothing but the silence of their breathing and Charlotte’s miniscule snores.

Helena smiled with a hint of whimsy, “It’s not quite the same without Liam’s voice…”

Myka shrugged, “I think we managed it alright on our own.”

They hadn’t been sure what to do with the lyrics once they were finished. The words, the emotion, the slowness of them didn’t quite lend themselves to being band material and so Myka had eventually shown them to Liam. He had fallen in love with it instantly, and once it had become evident that Myka and Fargo were actually going to go through with the studio merger, they decided to record it together, the three of them as a kind of symbol for the newly merged company. The track not only was wildly successful, earning a Grammy nomination for “Song of the Year” and a spot on a movie soundtrack, but it also and possibly more importantly, provided ample proof that the new venture between the two studios and labels, while uncertain for the time, was well worth the risk. 

Myka leaned down and pressed another kiss to the crown of Charlotte’s head, “I know how much we need tonight, and do not get me wrong, I’m looking forward to it like crazy, but I’m glad we did this first.”

Helena nodded next to her, leaving a kiss against Myka’s temple, “I know what you mean. I cannot wait to have a little bit of time to ourselves, and I am insanely grateful that your parents have offered to keep her tonight, but I would have been quite sad had we skipped bedtime.”

“You just like singing with me,” Myka teased.

“I am not even going to pretend that that isn’t true. It’s one of my most favorite times of day…getting to sing to her…with you.”

“You’re turning into a sap in your old age, Swagger.”

Helena’s teeth flashed in a glint of wicked determination, “I promise you, Sleepy, give me a few hours and I will how you just how _not old_ I am.”

Myka shook her head with a blushing smile, “I walked right into that one…”

“That you did, but I must admit, it does my ego good to know I can still make you blush after six years.”

“Something I judge myself mightily for, I might add.”

“Why? I happen to be _highly irresistible_.”

Myka chuckled, feeling a steady stream of warmth spread out from her stomach through to her fingertips in sheer anticipation of the rest of the evening, “You will get no argument from me there.”

“Is that so?” Helena raised an eyebrow in coy question.

Myka leaned down and whispered a kiss against Helena’s lips, “Very much so, Swagger…and trust me…by the end of the night you’ll _know_ that it is.”

It was Helena’s turn to feel her cheeks warm and flush under the weight of Myka’s words, the implication of her tone. They’d had next to no alone time together since Charlotte was born, and while Helena cherished each and every moment they’d had with her, she couldn’t help but admit that she was selfishly looking forward to having Myka to herself for a few hours, and she thrilled to know that Myka felt the same, was thinking _the exact same thing_ that she was.

Myka caught the blush in Helena’s cheeks, drawing a satisfied smile onto her face, “What do you say we get this evening started then?”

“I think, my love, that that sounds spectacular.”

**

“So you girls are off?” Jeannie asked as Helena and Myka both emerged back into the living room.

“That’s been my diagnosis for us since the day I met her, so objectively, _yes_ ,” Helena commented evenly.

Myka chuckled, reveling in the playfulness that was already exuding from Helena knowing that they had the night to themselves. “Sadly, I’d have to agree with that. We are, _also_ , off to dinner.” A sudden pang of nervousness at the notion of _leaving_ ricocheted through Myka’s chest cavity, her heartbeat kicking up a steady thrum, her hands tingly with the sensation. Her teeth chased over her bottom lip, eyes racing around the living room, and the sheer amount of _stuff_ that they had brought for Charlotte, “Mom, you’re _sure_ you’re good for tonight?”

Jeannie rolled her eyes, “I’m fairly certain that I have two grown daughters that prove I am quite capable.”

“I know, I just…you have everything you need?” Myka began ruffling through one of the bags Helena had deposited on the recliner, “There are way more bottles in the fridge than you will hopefully need, extra clothes, plenty of diapers…”

“Love…I quadruple checked everything we packed before I left the house. Your parents have everything they could possibly need and _more_ ,” Helena said calmly with an air of reassurance, while kneeling down next to J.P. on the floor and nabbing a cookie from his plate, earning her an endeared whine. She dropped a kiss to his head, ruffling his dirty blonde hair away from his eyes, “Daddy will soon teach you that you should always share your junk food with me. It’s tradition.” J.P. kept a steady gaze at the television, but smiled brightly, handing Helena an extra cookie. Helena laughed softly, giving him another kiss, “Love you, bud.”

Myka continued to talk from halfway within the diaper bag, her voice coming up muffled and a bit strained, “I know, but I just want to be _sure_.”

Jeannie gave Helena a small smile across Myka’s bent form before reaching over and wrapping her hands around Myka’s shoulders, drawing her up to meet her gaze. Jeannie squeezed Myka’s shoulders lightly, “My dear, darling daughter…it’s going to be fine. Jane will be here with the boys for a few more hours, your father and I are here, she is in more than capable hands.” Myka went to interrupt, but Jeannie shook her head and kept talking, “I know…I know that this feels oddly insurmountable and scary, but you need tonight, you need tonight _together_.” She shot a quick glance at Helena to make sure that she was listening too, Jeannie knowing instinctively that despite her calm exterior, Helena was most likely roiling with as many nerves as Myka, but that she was holding them in for Myka’s sake. Jeannie smirked slightly, “I, of course, have _zero desire_ to know how you spend your evening…”

“ _God_ …” Myka groaned.

“ _However_ …trust me when I say _you need it_. You two have given all of your time to that little girl in there, and while that is absolutely necessary, you need this time with each other. _None of us_ want to see what happens if you two are kept… _apart_ for too long. This town can’t handle a nuclear explosion, dearest.”

Myka’s cheeks were so red, Helena wondered if you could actually feel the heat radiating off of them. Myka blew out a long breath, “Wow…I believe I am now ready to leave, if only to make you _stop talking_.”

Jeannie’s smile was exultant, “Mission accomplished then! Now, go, shoo, _out of my house_ , go _ring in the New Year_.”

Myka rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder for one last glance in the diaper bag before wrapping her mom in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek, whispering, “You are an evil woman, and I love you.”

“I love you too. _Enjoy your night_.”

Helena chuckled behind them, stepping up to hug Jeannie, murmuring a soft, “Thank you,” in her ear before pulling away.

Jeannie shot her a wink, “Anytime. Now, go show my daughter a lovely evening.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Of that I have no doubt.”

**

It took another five minutes to get them both actually out of the house, both insisting on returning to the nursery for one last goodnight kiss, but eventually through the combined efforts of Jeannie and Jane they shooed them out the door successfully.

Once the door had shut behind them, Jeannie sank back onto the couch, giving Jane an incredulous smile, “Ah to be young, insanely in love, and completely buggy with baby exhaustion.”

Jane sighed wistfully, looking down to where Jace was crawling across J.P.’s back on the floor, “Wait until they have another one. Now, Pete and Amanda practically throw them at me. They’ve finally realized how much they need that time to themselves, and I’m certainly not complaining. It lets me spoil them mercilessly.”

Jeannie laughed softly, “They’ll get there eventually, but God, I remember those first few months after we had Myka. I don’t think I left the house. Eventually Warren just dragged me outside and insisted I breathe fresh air.”

“Those were the days…” Jane took a slow sip of wine, “I am so glad that all of them decided to go out tonight. They love their little traditions, and since they missed it last year since Amanda was almost ready to have that one,” she gestured towards Jace, “and with Myka pregnant too…well, I’m just glad they’re getting back to their regular, crazy selves. They all work so damn hard…”

“It’s been nice having the band take this break though…having them all home and in one place. They’ve needed this year so desperately.”

Jane nodded with a smile, “The last five years have been such a whirlwind, it feels like this has been the first time they’ve all slowed down…relatively.”

Warm laughter trickled out of Jeannie’s throat, “Slowed down…yes indeed, recording new albums, expanding a studio, babies…they’ve been entirely relaxed and lazy.”

“They’re all certifiable, but ridiculously happy, which I suppose is all we could ask for.”

Jane’s ear caught a slight rustle and sigh from the baby monitor and watched where Jace and J.R. continued to sprawl across her floor. Ridiculously happy, indeed. She didn’t quite know how they all got here, but damn if she wasn’t thrilled that they had.

**

“Umm, darling…I thought we were just stopping somewhere in town for dinner, or are you aiming to set a record for being late to everywhere we need to be tonight?”

Myka simply gave Helena a secretive smile, wrapping her hand around Helena’s knee and giving it a squeeze.

Helena eyed Myka suspiciously, “You’re being mysterious. Do I need to be concerned?”

“Oh yes, Swagger, very concerned, because clearly your wife is a danger to everyone involved when she has a secret.”

“Where on earth are we going?”

“And _you’re_ a danger when you’re impatient,” Myka teased. “Luckily, we’re almost there…”

Myka smiled triumphantly as she pulled into Motif’s parking lot and Helena audibly sighed with the exact hint of wonder and contentment that Myka had been hoping for. Helena turned sparkling eyes to her, “What on earth did you do? We have to meet everyone soon…”

“We have time…and hey, if we’re a little late…”

Helena shook her head, “You’re a remarkable woman, Myka Bering-Wells. However, need I point out that we are _woefully_ underdressed to walk in there. We’re dressed for a night in the snow and the cold, it’s not exactly jazz club attire.”

Myka shrugged, “Who cares? It’s dark enough in there, no one will notice.” She leaned across the console and pressed a heated, lingering kiss to Helena’s mouth, “Plus, underdressed or not, you look downright gorgeous…so I for one am _certainly not_ complaining.”

Heat fanned out down Helena’s spine, spreading through her nervous system with anxious anticipation. Myka chuckled softly against her lips, “I know that look, Swagger. You’re _not_ going to convince me to skip dinner _or_ our plans. _Patience…_ ”

“Didn’t you just say I’m a danger when I’m _impatient…_ ”

“I did. However, I’m willing to risk the danger, I happen to like it when you’re impatient and anticipating.”

“You are doing yourself no favors in convincing me to go along with the rest of the evening, darling if you keep talking to me in that tone.”

Myka pulled away quickly, Helena feeling the loss acutely, the soft waft of Myka’s perfume hitting her nostrils like a heavy aphrodisiac. Myka exited the car in a flourish, leaning back through the door, “The more you stall, Swagger…the more you put off the rest of the evening …”

Helena chuckled, emerging from the car with a teasing smirk, “You’re in a mood tonight, wife of mine.”

Myka linked their hands, tucking a kiss against Helena’s ear, “Complaints?”

Helena noticeably shivered, but was still able to manage a meager response of, “None whatsoever.”

The hostess escorted them to a table marked reserved, which Helena was quick to realize was the exact same table where they had sat on their first date. She sighed warmly, giving Myka an enamored smile, “You’re something else, did you know that?”

“I might have had an inkling. You have a tendency to remind me often.”

They settled deep into the curve of the booth, Helena immediately nestled close to Myka’s hip, her hand wrapping around Myka’s knee under the table. She whispered a kiss to the underside of Myka’s jaw, “You’re utterly forgiven for being late, just so you know.”

Myka chuckled, “I hoped this might garner me a little good favor on that count.” Myka wrapped an arm around Helena’s shoulders, pulling her impossibly closer, whispering against her temple, “I love you, I hope you know that.”

Helena’s fingers flexed against Myka’s knee as she settled against Myka’s shoulder, “Always, my love. _You have a tendency to remind me often_.” Myka laughter was warm, her breath floating across Helena’s skin, making her wonder if she was physically capable of surviving the night, _how_ she had survived the last few months without nights like this, the casual, utterly intoxicating intimacy of it. She sighed softly, “And I, of course, love you too darling…desperately so.”

“So long as we’re on the same page.”

In an effort to make the most of their time, and to prevent themselves from experiencing the ire of the group if they were late to the mountains, they limited themselves to shared appetizers and drinks. Helena attempted to focus on the food, on the music carrying from the stage where a quartet was racing their way through a blistering, remarkable set, but she couldn’t help just wanting to _talk_ , to listen to the lilt and dance of Myka’s voice, to revel in these few hours they had where their conversation didn’t have to filter around diapers and sleeplessness. Helena took a sip of her wine, half-turning to Myka, “We didn’t get a chance to really talk about your day earlier. Did you and Fargo make any progress with your working holiday?”

Myka chuckled, “Subtle there, Swagger.” She leaned over and kissed Helena’s smirk, “We actually got a lot done. The contractor had sent over some initial blueprints for the expansion, so we were able to really go over those and see what things we might want to tweak. It also gave me a chance to bounce some ideas off of him for Liam’s album, so overall, despite the _lateness_ , it was a much needed, productive day.”

“So what’s the final plan, or hoped for final plan, with the studio after this particular skull session?”

“The new orchestra studio still wasn’t quite as big as I’d like it to be, so we’re hoping to expand that out a bit. We’re sticking with the plan for just one new recording studio…”

“Despite Fargo’s desire for two…”

Myka rolled her eyes. It had been an ongoing dispute between her and Fargo when they started talking about expanding. Fargo had been adamant that they needed two new studios, but between the cost and everything else they wanted to do, Myka knew that it wasn’t in the cards, at least not this time around. “He continues to grumble at me, but I think once he saw the final cost breakdown, it sunk in that we’re doing as much as we possibly can. So orchestra, new studio, and two new writing rooms.”

“Thank God…the holes in the wall that you have now are abhorrent.”

Myka laughed despite her incredulity, “Wow…tell me how you really feel?”

Helena sighed, “You know that those rooms are not even remotely big enough. That was _why_ you wanted to expand in the first place.”

“I told you…you could go back to The Warehouse. It’s always open for writers…”

“Oh yes, open and thronged with hoards of people any time we attempt to work.”

Myka grimaced. It was an expected, though no less disappointing, side effect of the band’s success. Their ability to come and go as they pleased at The Warehouse had disappeared completely. It was no longer a safe haven for Claudia and Helena to write, but an open invitation for selfies and autographs for the fans that thronged the door whenever they got within fifteen feet of the place. They’d started over the last year simply writing at one of their houses or at the studio, despite the admittedly tiny accommodations. Myka drummed her fingers against her beer bottle, “You know…since we’re putting the new recording studio in, I’m not really going to be using the apartment for recording much anymore. What if we talked about doing a bit of a conversion into a better space for writing? It could just be yours and Claud’s…and maybe ours if we ever feel like writing somewhere other than the house or over email. You wouldn’t have to go through the store, but just sneak up the back stairs.”

A beaming smile overtook Helena’s face, “That would be lovely. We miss it…being at the store. It just doesn’t quite feel the same…”

“Well then, I say we do it.”

Helena chuckled, gripping a hand around Myka’s wrist, “One project at a time, love. Let’s get through this expansion first and then we’ll see. For now, Claudia and I can work with what we have. It’s suited us just fine up to this point.”

“Fargo said he was thinking about getting you guys back in the studio earlier than planned.”

“I think he’s simply ready to give Claudia an outlet for her ceaseless energy…”

“I do not want to think about how those two survive in the same house.”

Helena grinned, “They could probably power their entire block if they tried hard enough.”

“Most likely. So tell me, Rock Star, are you ready to get back to it?”

Helena sighed wistfully, her eyes glazing a bit with a far-off look, “In many ways, I am. This year has been exactly what we all needed, just time to breathe and relax without the pressure, the stress of touring and recording. It’s felt a bit like it did in the beginning, with just Claudia and I plugging away at writing. It’s been reinvigorating, getting back to that feeling of doing what you love for the sake of doing it, rather than because you have deadlines to meet. Yet…at the same time, it’s going to be hard, returning to that grind. It’s been so nice, just having this year for us, for Charlotte, being home every night, not relying on FaceTime and texts to make our life feel normal. I will miss that…”

Myka tilted her head and left a kiss against Helena’s temple, “That feeling is very mutual, but you still are months and months away from even _thinking_ about touring, so it will be a slow shift back. For now, all you have to think about is putting that ridiculous voice of yours back to work.”

“Who knows…maybe this year of domesticity for all of us will have sapped us of our rock star capabilities.”

Laughter fled Myka’s throat involuntarily until she took in the faint glimmer of worry in Helena’s eyes. Instinctively, she pulled Helena closer, “Hey…Swagger…” Helena’s eyes remained firmly fixed on the stage in front of them. A saddened smile tugged at Myka’s lips as she tucked her fingers under Helena’s chin, “Helena, Sweets, look at me.” Helena turned her attention, hesitantly back to Myka, who felt a painful twist in her chest at the tears that seemed close to rimming Helena’s eyes. Myka dropped a kiss to the bridge of Helena’s nose, “The day that _anything_ saps you of that rock star swagger is the day that I stop loving Tom Petty. You said it yourself, you guys _did_ need this year, and because you took it, there is no doubt in my mind that once you get back in the studio you’re going to be ten times stronger than you were. You all admitted how tired you were after the last album, and understandably so. Three albums in five years is _insane_. I’ve heard the stuff you and Claud have been writing. You’re ready to go back…more than ready.”

Helena didn’t respond, simply pushed forward across the minimal space that existed between them and kissed Myka without a care in the world as to who might be able to see them. A small groan escaped Myka’s throat as she pulled away with a great deal of effort, “You do that, and we won’t make it to the mountains.”

Helena’s eyes glinted dangerously, her lips pulled in a smirk that sent heat pooling into Myka’s stomach, “I would never suggest skipping our traditions, but it’s only fair that _both of us_ are _impatient_.”

“Mission accomplished on that front…” Myka whispered out, dropping another kiss to Helena’s lips.

Helena retreated a hair and murmured, “Dance with me.”

Myka’s eyes chased to her watch, “We’re going to be late…”

“The refrain of the night. I don’t care. _One dance_ , love.”

Myka linked their hands under the table with a teasing smile, tugging Helena out from the booth, “C’mon Swagger…let’s make our lateness worthwhile.”

Myka led them onto the small dance floor as the quartet eased into a slower rhythm. She shifted her hand so that it barely held onto Helena’s fingertips, giving them a light pulse, a quick indication of her next move, raising their hands into the air and twirling Helena slowly before pulling her into her arms. They barely moved, merely swayed together, enjoying the simple feeling of just holding onto each other. It felt so reminiscent of their first date that Myka found herself short of breath, suddenly awed at the years that had trickled away from that night so long ago. She held Helena tighter, feeling Helena’s fingers twirling around her curls, “I’ve missed this.”

Helena sighed against Myka’s cheek, “It has been far too long since we’ve danced.”

“I love you, _so bloody much_.”

Helena’s laughter trickled into Myka’s ears with a stomach flipping warmth, her lips grazing against Myka’s jaw, “I love you too, my darling Myka…even when you attempt to be British.”

The song finished faster than either of them would have liked, but as it did, Helena left another kiss to Myka’s lips, “What do you say we go ring in the New Year?”

Myka grinned with goofy anticipation, “Lead the way, Swagger.”

**

_Pikes Peak National Park, Colorado Springs, CO_

“You’re late!” Amanda bellowed across the parking lot before Myka and Helena were barely out of their car.

“ _Yeah they are_ …” 

“God…” Myka groaned, imagining with perfect clarity the exact wiggle of Pete’s eyebrows which most likely accompanied his commentary.

Helena’s laughter was low in her ear where she had moved around the car to settle against Myka’s side, Myka’s arm immediately stealing around her waist. Helena left a kiss to her cheek, “Let them think what they will; we are perfectly _innocent_ in our lateness.”

“Again I say… _God_ …number one, you and innocence, hell _us and innocence_ no longer belong in the same sentence, Swagger, and two, I really don’t want to spend the rest of the night listening to Pete’s vast and various ways to make _everything_ an innuendo.”

Next to her, Helena shook her head, tutting softly under her breath, “Always with the comments on how I have corrupted you…it’s a wonder you have survived being married to me for this long.”

“It _is_ a never-ending struggle,” Myka smirked, pinching lightly at Helena’s waist.

They made their way across the surprisingly crowded parking lot to where the rest of the group had been waiting for them. The moment they approached, Pete held up a hand to Myka, “ _Mykes!_ Just jumpin’ into that first night without the kid…that’s _my girl_!”

Myka gave him a pointed look, adamantly refusing his high five, “That’s so not what happened, Lattimer.”

Pete scoffed, “Uh huh, yup, sure, totally not suspicious that you, of all people , you, who is _never late_ , is late tonight of all nights.”

“Or it’s simply the reality that _late_ is apparently my middle name this evening.”

“Hey, Fargo’s too!” Claudia said pointedly, nudging her hip against Fargo’s, though there was still an enamored smile on her face.

“Workaholics, the both of you,” Liam teased.

“Careful…part of why I was in the office was because I needed to prep for _your album_.” Myka shot Liam a quick wink as she caught his ears pinking at her words even in spite of the darkness around them.

“So, what, you’re late because you were _working_?” Amanda asked with a skeptical bent to her voice. A smirk pulled at her lips as she took in how tightly Myka was holding Helena to her, “Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m with my teenager of a husband on this one… _you’re late_.”

“If you must know…Myka took me out to dinner to start our evening, and I insisted on staying later than we should have,” Helena stated evenly.

“ _Sure_ …dinner…that’s totally what the kids are callin’ it these days.” Pete shot off finger guns towards Myka and Helena, “We all absolutely believe you.”

“ _Ok_ …either we spend the rest of the evening here debating the entirely uninteresting truth of what Helena and I were doing before we got here, _which was having dinner_ , and risk missing the fireworks, _or_ , we actually get on with our plans for the evening.”

Pete slung an arm around Myka’s shoulders, tugging her away from Helena and placing a sloppy kiss to the top of her head, “Even after all this time you remain so damn _shy_. My tall gal…so modest, so innocent.”

“Funny, now that _was_ the topic of our conversation as we were arriving…Myka and her aforementioned innocence,” Helena’s eyes were dancing with playful mirth, her teeth glinting in a wicked, teasing smile.

“ _Helena_ …that is not helping…”

“C’mon Mykes, it’s not like any of us would _judge_ you for your…lateness. It’s your first night out since the kiddo came along, you’re allowed some…lateness.”

“Alright, I’m walking into the woods now and if anyone else wants to tag along, feel free.” Myka tugged away from Pete’s hold, “And I swear to God, Lattimer, one more comment and I will punch you.”

Pete shrugged, “Eventually, you’ll probably punch me anyway…”

Helena sidled back up next to Myka, laughing softly and pushing some of Myka’s curls behind her ear, “He’s right on that front, darling.”

“I know…it still helps to threaten though, and hope that it keeps him moderately in check.”

“I believe that it is a fruitless effort my love.” Helena eyed Myka carefully, “You really are blushing aren’t you.”

Myka grimaced, “Hush you…”

“Huh…apparently innocent _does_ still belong in your vocabulary…”

“Give it a few hours and tell me what your thoughts are on that, Swagger,” Myka flashed her a coy smile.

Helena felt a blush rise up in her own cheeks. She cleared her throat which was suddenly thick, “You are an evil woman, Myka Bering-Wells.”

“You know the deal in this marriage, I have to keep you on your toes.”

“Unless you want to be pulled out of here long before midnight, and thus open yourself to more of Pete’s _commentary_ , I’d be careful with just how much you make good on that deal tonight, darling.”

Myka grinned widely, “I’ll keep that in mind. Though asking me not to flirt with you…I don’t really think I’m capable of that.”

“ _Try_ …or else your blushing might outshine the fireworks tonight.”

With chairs, blankets, and guitars in tow the eight of them wound their way through the woods to their usual New Year’s Eve spot, nestled within an out of the way clearing that few knew was there despite its perfect eye line to the mountains and the fireworks. Pete and Steve quickly got started on the fire while the rest of them arranged the blankets and got out the food that Amanda had packed. As Myka was settling a blanket and pillows for her and Helena against one of the trees, Amanda knelt down next to her with the appearance of helping her, though she just wanted the opportunity to get Myka alone, “So, spill it…you were late.”

Myka rolled her eyes, “I swear if you all are so concerned with Helena and I’s sex life, then _I’m_ concerned with how dull your own are.”

Amanda scoffed playfully, “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to, dearest.”

“True.”

“Come on,” Amanda reached out and toyed with the edge of the blanket, pulling at it, “were you _really_ at dinner?”

“ _Yes, we were really at dinner_. We were late because I got to my parents late since I was working, thus we got to our reservation late, and then Helena insisted we dance a little before we left, and thus… _late_.”

“Dance?” Amanda smirked.

“Seriously, you all need to get your own… _lateness_ on, apparently. Yes, we danced. Like legitimate, band playing, people swaying, danced.”

Amanda held her hands up in surrender, “Alright, I believe you…I cannot believe that you were actually at dinner, because, well, I wouldn’t have been, but still…that’s the last I’ll say about it.”

“Thank you,” Myka nodded. 

Amanda eyed Myka curiously, “Why do you look like you want to say something else?”

Myka shook her head, “No, it’s nothing.”

“Well, if dinner wasn’t a lie, _that_ certainly was.” Amanda tugged on Myka’s elbow, drawing her up and away from the rest of the group. She wrapped a hand around Myka’s wrist with a gentle squeeze, taking in the nervousness that seemed to have sprung into Myka out of nowhere. A wondering, almost knowing, smile pulled at Amanda’s lips, “Talk to me.”

Myka couldn’t bring herself to meet Amanda’s eye, sighing roughly, “It’s stupid, but I don’t know, I mean, _yes_ , we were at dinner, but we’re very much _not_ going to dinner after this. Jesus, we even got a hotel, because, ya know, _first night free_ , and…I…I just…”

“You’re nervous,” Amanda said simply.

Myka’s shoulders slumped, “Yes.” She shook her head as if all her thoughts could be scattered to the winds with that one simple motion, “I realize that probably sounds insane…”

“Oh Myka…” Amanda laughed softly, “It is so not insane. Trust me, I have been there, and it’s…it’s natural to be nervous.”

“It just feels like this _huge thing_ , and I don’t want Helena to think that I’m not _right there_ with the anticipation, but…”

“With anticipation comes what feels like a ton of expectation, I get it. I absolutely and completely get it. You just…you have to remember that at the end of the day, it’s just you two and whatever happens, it will be ok. It might be perfect, or it might be a little uncomfortable, but you’ll find your way back one way or the other. Just try…try not to let all that expectation and build up get in your head…try and breathe and relax and just see what happens.” Amanda reached out and brought Myka into a tight hug, whispering, “Try to just enjoy yourself.”

Myka hugged Amanda gratefully, “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Now come on, you need a drink.”

They all eventually gathered their drinks and snacks and settled into their typical configuration around the fire, Liam and Claudia with their guitars, Fargo and Steve settled on the ground in front of them, Pete and Amanda nestled as close to the fire and the food as possible, sprawled across three blankets, and Myka and Helena tucked up against the tree huddled beneath layers and layers of warmth. 

Helena settled herself back against Myka, taking a slow sip of her cider before turning her head the barest amount, “Was everything alright earlier? With you and Amanda?”

Myka fought to keep her voice even, light, “Yeah, yeah absolutely, she just wanted to talk to me for a second.”

“That sounds…suspiciously vague.”

Myka leaned forward to kiss Helena’s forehead, “Trust me, nothing to worry about.”

Helena pursed her lips together, considering, contemplating the shifting features of Myka’s face, the faint waver of worry in her eyes, the slight pulse along her jaw. She debated asking more, pushing, but then wondered…wondered if she knew, and if she _did_ , then now wasn’t the time to discuss it. That time would come later. She smiled warmly and leaned further back to place a light kiss to Myka’s lips, whispering the first thing that came to mind, “I love you.”

A soft, more at ease smile graced Myka’s face, “Love you too, Sweets.”

Conversation ebbed and flowed around the fire, Amanda and Pete inquiring how their boys were when Myka and Helena had left them, Fargo and Myka ending up trapped in a bit more work talk until Claudia and Helena put a quick end to that line of conversation. It felt peacefully _normal_ , as if they were just eight friends doing what they _always_ did on New Year’s Eve, rather than the reality of what they were: four sleep-deprived parents, two still practically newlyweds, and Claudia and Fargo whose energy was enough to render them wild, and they were all gearing up for a 2017 that would be filled with more work than they were even remotely ready for. For these few hours, it was like the world stopped spinning for them. There were no responsibilities, no concerns, no deadlines. There weren’t albums to record, studios to expand, tours to plan. There wasn’t the overwhelming pressure of fame and celebrity that always seemed to be lurking around the least-suspecting of corners. They were just _them_ , happy, contented _them_. 

“Hey, by the way, did you guys hear that we broke up?” Pete interjected into a slight lull in the conversation.

“If that’s the case, that blanket is the coziest version of divorce I’ve ever seen,” Steve remarked, a slight tease in his voice.

Pete threw a marshmallow at Steve, “Not us, dummy, _us_!”

“Well that just clears it right up,” Claudia said.

“ _The band!_ I swear, I am the smartest one here.”

“Oh Lord, I know this year has been apocalyptic, but I don’t think we’ve quite hit _that_ point yet, Lattimer.” Myka stuck her tongue out at Pete, hand snapping out to catch the marshmallow that flew her way. She popped it into her mouth, “Thanks!”

Helena chuckled lightly at Myka’s playfulness, then returned her attention to Pete, “So explain this. We broke up? How did I miss that memo?”

“I was at the store earlier and one of those stupid rags of a magazine had this whole article written up about how we didn’t take the year off, but we actually had some huge fight and broke up. I apparently hate you, H.G., and you’re no longer talking to any of us.”

“Well, then I clearly should be going. No point in spending the holiday with people I abhor.”

“I don’t know where these people get this stuff,” Steve sighed.

Myka scoffed, “From their tiny, little brains.”

“It’s good to know that my year is much more free now if we broke up. Pete, we have a lot of video games to catch up on,” Claudia shot Pete a thumbs up.

“Sounds good to me.”

Helena tapped Myka’s arm, “Apparently, your mother is free from babysitting duties, since I’m now unemployed.”

“Hey! That also means my whole spring is free if I don’t have to deal with all of you in the studio.” Fargo gave Claudia a mock triumphant look, “We can go on vacation! Again!”

“You all are very, _very_ weird,” Liam teased.

“And yet, Liam, darling, you put up with us, so what does that say about you?” Helena asked.

Before Liam could respond, Fargo cleared his throat, suddenly standing, his hands running up and down his thighs, looking just as likely to pass out as he was to sprint as fast as he could up the mountain. They all watched him questioningly, until he cleared his throat and glanced at his watch, “Umm…” He pushed his glasses up his nose where they had quickly slid down it, “It’s almost midnight, and this is like totally out of nowhere, but I need to do something before the fireworks start going off.” He turned and focused his attention on Claudia whose eyes were wide with some combination of panic, shock, and adoration. Each of them fell silent, entirely focused on the scene playing out in front of them.

Fargo reached into his pocket and pulled out a box, but didn’t open it, didn’t kneel down, just started to talk, “They always say you should start the year how you intend to finish it, and usually I think that all of that is crap, just cheesy, sentimental nonsense that no one really buys, but Claud…when it comes to you, I tend to fall for a lot of that cheesy, sentimental nonsense. You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me. I was this loner nerd, content to live my life behind a sound board and then you just blew into my life in a whirlwind of hair dye and punk rock, and God…I fell in love with you in an instant. I know how I want to start my year, I know how I want to end my year, hell how I want to start and end _all of my years_.” Finally, he knelt down, cracking open the box in his hand, “I want to spend every year I have left with you next to me. So, in these final moments of this year, I want to ask you…will you marry me?”

“Holy shit!” Claudia squealed, eliciting laughter from all around the fire, because it was a reaction that, only from Claudia, was charmingly sweet. She flung herself out of her camp chair and wrapped her arms around Fargo’s neck, almost knocking him over with the force of her motions, “Of course! Absolutely! _Hell. Yes._ ”

In the midst of a fairly fevered kiss and the rush to get the ring on her finger, they all applauded while Pete whistled as loudly as he possibly could. As their own excitement started to quiet, echoes began around the park, counting the final seconds of 2016 away. Helena settled further against Myka, reveling in the feeling of hearing Myka countdown in her ear. As the final second ticked away, the mountains above them sprang to life in an avalanche of color, fireworks exploding from every angle. There were shouts and exclamations from all around them, but each of them was too lost in their own tiny bubble to notice. Helena fully turned in Myka’s arms, meeting her halfway in a kiss that made fireworks to rival the ones on the mountain explode behind Helena’s eyes. 

Eventually, Myka pulled away slightly breathless, “To another year, Swagger.”

“To _every year_ , my love.”

They all waited and watched the rest of the fireworks until they were over and then they were finally able to move and shift and shower Claudia and Fargo in affection and congratulations. Myka didn’t know why, but she felt tears spring to her eyes as she hugged Claudia tightly. She kissed her cheek, suddenly remembering the nineteen year old who had first showed up in her store all those years ago, “Congratulations, Claud.”

Claudia blushed, “Aww geez…thanks Cap’n.”

Usually, no matter how cold it was, they would linger around the fire into the late hours of the night, talking, singing, laughing, but tonight, they all seemed to know that there were other places they needed to be. Their traditions would always hold, would always have meaning, but sometimes they had to be followed up with celebrations all their own. Ring in the year how you intend to end it, indeed.

As they all gathered their things, Myka paused for a small moment to gaze around their small circle, her mind once again racing across the years to where they had started, how far they had come. They weren’t kids anymore. Hell, _they had kids_. Their lives were big and vast and chaotic. Their houses filled with years of memories and toys trod under foot. There were rings on fingers, new tattoos on some bodies, and maybe a few wrinkles and grey hairs, but deep down they were still, always would be, inherently them. Their family. Their group. No matter what might change, they would always have that.

She felt a hand slipping into her own, Helena’s palm pressing assurance and heat into hers. When she looked at her, Myka saw that Helena was gazing at her with a peaceful kind of wonder, an overwhelming kind of love that still managed to leave Myka breathless. Helena leaned up on her tiptoes and placed a light kiss to the corner of Myka’s mouth, “Are you ready to go love?”

Another pulse of nervousness whirled around Myka’s stomach, but over Helena’s shoulder she saw Amanda giving her a bright smile, a nod, a quick mouthing of “ _Breathe, have fun._ ” She returned her attention to Helena, squeezing their entwined hands, “Absolutely, Sweets. Let’s get out of here.”

**

_Garden of the Gods Resort, Colorado Springs, CO_

Myka wasn’t sure when the shift happened. If it had been immediate, from the moment their car doors had shut and they pulled away from the mountains, or if it had come in a gradual wave like a fog creeping over the world and amassing everything in a sheet of grey. Either way, Myka was incapable of ignoring the palpable silence, thick and heavy with things as yet unspoken that was currently hanging around them. 

She said a quiet word of thanks that Helena had come to the hotel earlier in the day and checked them in, so that they didn’t have to deal with the exuberant, holiday, celebratory banter that she was certain would have greeted them at the front desk. She didn’t have the mental capacity to fake her way through a bevy of small talk, all the while her mind was running itself ragged, tying her up in knots with everything that was _supposed to happen_ once they got to their room.

Despite her conversation with Amanda, she still felt foolish, crazy, slightly stupid for how nervous she was, for the way her stomach was swirling in some combination of desire and fear which was leaving her feeling slightly nauseous. In some ways, she felt a bit how she did on their wedding night, tangled up in uncertainty, fighting the overwhelming fear that she would get something wrong, weighed down by a boulder of expectation that she knew she was solely putting on herself. She wanted tonight to be so many things, so many _wondrous_ things, and the driven by desire portion of her brain wanted nothing more than to throw caution and Helena’s clothes to the wind from the moment they stepped in the door of their room. Yet, her fear, her anxiety, her blinding self-consciousness was shouting down any and all attempts at rationality, at just _giving in_ to how badly she wanted this, needed this. How badly _they_ needed this. 

She knew, deep down, that nothing had changed. They were still them. They had proven that in the far too rare, far too limited on time moments that they had stolen when they were able to get them. It wasn’t as though the last six months had been entirely devoid of _anything_ , as though Charlotte had been some cosmic black hole sucking all passion out of their marriage. That wasn’t even remotely the reality. Yet, they both knew they needed _more_. They needed time. Time that wasn’t hasty and rushed, backed into corners of studios and on one memorable occasion, a back room at the Regents. Time that wasn’t all tousled clothes and flushed cheeks with absolutely no true sense of release, of _enough_. In some corners of her head, it made sense. In others though? Others were swarming her with thoughts of what if things _had_ changed, what if she wasn’t ready, what if _her body_ , wasn’t ready, what if the changes her body had gone through in the last year and a half left something to be _desired_?

All these thoughts chased down her nervous system, threatening to spill out of her mouth, but instead ending up lodged, thick and unmoving in her throat, leaving her, leaving them with nothing but silence. _Silently_ , she wondered if Helena was just as worried. After all, Helena wasn’t saying anything either. This silence was very much two-sided, and while that gave her some stilted sense of comfort, it also left her all the more _worried_ , because if Helena was worried or nervous then maybe there was something to that…maybe they were rushing, maybe they were forcing the issue, maybe they had built up the expectation so high that there was nowhere to go but down.

Her fears were in no way abated once they got to their room. It had taken only a few moments of realizing that being within their own private four walls hadn’t put an end to their lack of words, for Helena to give her a hesitant, thin smile, whispering, with a brush of fingertips down her arm, “I’m going to take a quick shower. I feel distinctly…woodsy.”

It wasn’t much, but it was so ardently _Helena_ , that Myka felt a little piece of her unclench and reorient. _Nothing has changed_. She tucked a kiss to Helena’s cheek, “I’ll be here. Possibly breaking into the mini bar.”

Helena smirked and she almost looked entirely like herself, “Save some for me.”

“I make no promises.”

Myka waited until she heard the clatter of water against tile before investigating the contents of the mini bar, finding a small bottle of wine, perfect for two glasses. Without hesitation, she poured one for herself, leaving Helena’s on the desk, and wandering out into the biting, crisp air of the balcony. 

She sipped slowly, taking in the scenery played out in moonlight and continued fireworks in front of her. Their room faced the mountains which were awash in color, moon on snow, flashlights and fireworks on blackened shadow. As deeply as she could, Myka sucked in calming breaths, willing her muscles to ease, her mind to quiet, her heart to simply _feel_. 

As the minutes ticked away, as the shouts of late night revelers filled her ears, as the cold filled her lungs, Myka felt almost as though she was returning to herself. Into the stillness of her reverie, the faint noise of the door to the balcony opening and snapping shut reached her ears, but she didn’t turn, she didn’t need to, her ears perfectly attuned to the soft patter of Helena’s sock-clad feet, the soft waft of Helena’s soap hitting her nostrils with the strength of coming home. She felt the soft pulse of fingertips walking up the notches of her spine as Helena’s other hand curled around her shoulder, Helena’s chin coming to rest against her knuckles, leaning her head against Myka’s.

Myka turned, barely, just enough to whisper a kiss to the side of Helena’s hand, “I left you a glass of wine on the desk in there.”

A tiny exhalation, a miniscule puff of laughter hit Myka’s cheek, feeling Helena’s smile against her skin, “I’d much rather just share yours.” A hand wrapped around Myka’s, pulling her wine glass away. Helena took a small sip accompanied by a satisfied sigh before returning her head to its settled place on Myka’s shoulder, her front entirely pressed against Myka’s back, “What are you doing out here, love? It’s cold.”

Myka shrugged, feeling Helena’s weight lift with the movement, “Just wanted a bit of air.”

Helena sighed softly, “It’s beautiful… _cold_ …but admittedly beautiful.”

“It’s quite the view…”

“How cheesy would it be if I said something as horrendously ridiculous as ‘the mountains aren’t the only view?’”

Laughter fled Myka’s lungs before she could even check it, “Not necessarily cheesy, but it would _definitely_ reduce your swagger quotient.”

“And here you told me there was _nothing_ that could do that.”

“Swagger is powerless against cheesy flirting.”

Helena smiled softly, resuming their settled position together. She reached a hand up and tucked a stray curl behind Myka’s ear, leaving a kiss to Myka’s skin. There was _something_ radiating off of Myka, but Helena didn’t want to push, to intrude upon her thoughts, yet she couldn’t quite help herself, “Are you alright, darling?”

“Yeah..yeah, I’m fine.” Myka looked sidelong along her shoulder, catching the hesitancy, the worry that was in Helena’s eyes, the way that Helena’s face seemed to be mirroring the look that Myka was sure was on her own. Her mind trickled to Helena’s silence, to the way she had helped pack up the car with a precision that wasn’t quite normal, to the immediacy of her declaration that she needed a shower. Myka shifted out of Helena’s hold, turning to look at her directly, “Are _you_ okay, Swagger?”

Helena’s eyes widened in what could have been panic or simple shock at the question, “Of course. Absolutely okay.”

Recognition, realization, _relief_ flooded its way through Myka’s system, leaving her powerless to do anything but smile, _widely_ , a bit stupidly, “You’re _nervous_.”

“I am _not_ nervous,” Helena bristled, practically stepping physically back, away from the question.

Myka chuckled, “You are completely nervous.”

“Are you telling me you _aren’t_?” Helena spluttered, in a voice Myka was certain she hadn’t heard since that first hesitant night in the blizzard when Helena was almost too afraid to ask her to simply share a bed in _actual_ , complete innocence.

“ _Of course I am!_ That’s what I was talking to Amanda about earlier!” Myka’s cheeks pulled and tugged in a wide smile, laughing with faint incredulousness. She swiped a hand across the back of her neck, “God…Swagger…we are…we’re ridiculous. We’re both here dancing around each other, when we’re feeling the exact same thing.”

Helena grinned sheepishly, “One would say we sound exactly like ourselves then.”

“True.”

“We’ve tangled ourselves up sufficiently and royally haven’t we?

Myka’s smile was so wide she could feel her muscles pulling, suddenly no longer nervous, no longer anything other than dangerously, deliriously in love with her wife. She took another step closer to Helena, “Ah, but what are we always here for?”

Helena rolled her eyes, “The untangling. How could I _possibly_ forget?”

“You can’t. Untangling is part and parcel of who we are, Swagger.”

“So…what exactly is the first step in this…untangling process.”

“Well,” Myka tucked her hands into her back pockets, shrugging playfully, lip tugged between her teeth for a moment. “I think a great place to start would be you kissing me.”

“Really?” Helena smirked, “Something as simple as that?”

“Something as simple as that…and I have a feeling I’ll, _we’ll_ , just completely _untangle_.”

Helena didn’t say anything, she knew she didn’t need to. They were in some ways so very long past the need for questions and necessary responses. Before, years ago, in moments such as these, she would have spent another five minutes _making sure_ , ensuring that Myka was, in fact, as okay as she seemed, that this was what they both wanted, that they were on the same page. Now though, all it took was a look, one small sweep across Myka to inherently know that the time for talking was over, to feel the shift in the mood around them, no longer uncomfortable in its silence, but instead taken over, dominated by, awash with want, with desire, with need. 

It _was_ as simple as that, as Helena giving Myka a small nod and stepping forward, fully engulfed into Myka’s space. All it took to drive them hurtling down the path they had been hovering along all night was one simple movement, one simple gesture. Helena reached around Myka, drawing Myka’s hands out of her back pockets and linking their hands together, drawing Myka even further into her. In her sock clad feet, Helena was woefully out of the reach and so she arched up on the tips of her toes and _dove_ headlong into the kiss that each of them had somehow been waiting for all night.

It started slow, almost painfully slow, just the lightest, barest trace of lip against lip, the exhalation and inhalation of shared breath, a testing of the waters, barely dipping a toe in the pool for fear that if you jump too far, too fast you’ll drown before you’re adequately prepared. 

Despite their earlier teasing, their playful banter about _impatience_ , Myka was more than willing to glide along this pace, to ease her way back into this space that for so long had seemed so far away. Part of her didn’t want to lose the connection pulsing between their entwined fingers, yet for all of her need to simply go where Helena led them, Myka needed Helena _closer_ , needed to be able to feel her beneath her palms, a solid assurance that they were finally here. She slowly unwound her fingers from the tangle of Helena’s, sliding one hand up and into Helena’s hair, scratching her nails along the base of Helena’s skull, earning her a satisfied groan from Helena, a deeper push into their kiss. Her other hand tentatively crept up the back of Helena’s sweatshirt, not moving any further than a steady splay of her fingers against the small of Helena’s back, a slight pressure that brought them fully, completely together.

Nothing about this kiss was hesitant or uncertain, but rather was a rediscovery, a slow, soothing welcome back to where you knew you always belonged. Now that they had begun, now that they had started to… _untangle_ …all of Myka’s worries and concerns started to dissipate, as though she’d been stuck in the clouds for too long and the sun had finally broken through to scatter them away piece by piece. She didn’t _want_ to rush, she wanted to _feel_ , every single second of the night they had before them, but God, if finally knowing they had _time_ , knowing that she had Helena _right there_ , didn’t make her want to just rush with a fevered passion and return to the reverential slowness later. 

She knew what Helena was doing, had learned this lesson hundreds of times over in the last six years, and never once did it dull. Helena loved the slow build, loved twisting Myka up so tightly that the inevitable collapse was heart-stopping, lung-shattering. She loved to toy and tease and work Myka up into such a frenzy that there was nothing to be done but watch as Myka’s well-honed attempts at self-control and _innocence_ were left in tatters on the floor. Myka felt dizzy and breathless and so _goddamn wanting_ , broken in pieces by something as commonplace, something as sexy, something as _simple_ as Helena’s tongue doing a delicate dance along the roof of her mouth. Each movement served to stoke the embers lying low in Myka’s stomach; embers that had never truly gone out but had certainly been left dormant over the last few months were now flamed entirely back to roaring, bright, powerful life, leaving Myka hot and fevered even while standing out in the sharp cold of the late night Colorado wind.

Finally, once Myka was certain she couldn’t tell up from down, minutes from hours, Helena pulled away the faintest amount, her fingernails dragging down Myka’s shoulder blades with the perfect amount of bite and depth which she knew drove Myka utterly mad. Myka let out a soft groan, a pathetic keen, her own fingers shifting to grip, to squeeze at Helena’s hips. She felt more than heard Helena’s soft chuckle, “Bed…my love.”

Myka was long past, _years past_ the point of being embarrassed by her body’s visceral reaction to Helena’s…everything, so when she visibly shivered at Helena’s words, at the heady combination of command and request laced through them, at the raspy timbre of Helena’s voice, she didn’t even care. She simply smiled coyly, her fingers once again flexing around Helena’s hips as she replied, “I thought you’d never ask.”

And still they didn’t rush, there was no quick race of tripped over feet, there were no clothes torn or scattered without thought or intention. They both simply seemed to _know_ that tonight, these few moments, though so very common with them, were also, somehow, more precious. Precious because these moments had been so rare lately. Precious because they both knew that this step they were taking was more than just one body moving with and against another simply in order to reach some inevitable climax. Precious because their lives had fundamentally changed, _they_ had each fundamentally changed over the last year and a half. Precious because their lives never ceased to be chaotic and crazy. Precious because for as much as things had changed, for as much as time had passed…they were still _them_. They were still two people who wanted nothing more than to share as many minutes and hours together as they could. Two people who contained so much desire for each other within their bodies that it was a wonder they didn’t implode from the weight. Two people who knew each other in every sense that a person could be laid bare, knew what words to use, what points to push, what nerves to tease in order to make moments such as these electric.

Myka was reminded of that fact as Helena finally eased her back onto the bed, after a torturous striptease in which Myka was forced to watch from the edge of the bed, without ability to touch or speak, after Helena had taken her sweet, _precious time_ in peeling Myka out of every last stitch of clothing with only the faintest, most teasing of touches to accompany the process. It was as if their time on the balcony had satisfied Helena’s every need to have her lips against Myka’s and was now dedicated, _devoted_ to now tracing them over every inch of Myka’s skin, every spot that made Myka twitch, moan, groan, sigh with pleasure.

It was only in these few moments, as Helena’s mouth explored across the plains of Myka’s stomach that Myka’s nerves from hours before returned, quietly screaming into her senses. Myka had been utterly _diligent_ in her desire to get back into a regular routine of running, of working out after Charlotte had been born. Easing her muscles back into a rhythm as best she could, not pushing, but not going easy necessarily either. It had been an otherworldly experience, having Charlotte, but it still didn’t impede Myka’s desire to get her body back to being… _her_ body. Yet, certain things couldn’t be denied, couldn’t be pushed. The contours of her stomach, which Helena was currently lavishing with attention, weren’t as defined as they once were, her skin no longer devoid of blemishes. Her body still, despite her attention to it, harbored a certain softness, which Myka _knew_ would linger, and in these moments of finally being once again utterly bare to Helena in intimacy…she felt all too _aware_ of that fact.

As if sensing the tension which had eased back into Myka’s mind, as if she could absorb her thoughts from the simple sensation of lips on skin, Helena mouthed a lingering kiss to Myka’s left hip before resting her chin below Myka’s belly button, fingers painting images across the skin her mouth had just mapped. She watched as Myka’s brow furrowed and eased with the sensation, the way her eyes remained closed, as if in an effort to not actually witness Helena’s re-exploration of her body in its current form. Helena dipped her finger along the valley of Myka’s ribs, eliciting a sharp, _wanting_ moan from Myka, the one thing she knew would get Myka to look at her. 

When their eyes finally met, Helena gave her a small smile, tipping her chin to kiss the skin below her, “You…Myka Bering-Wells…are the single most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

Myka, predictably, rolled her eyes, “Sweet talker…”

Helena grinned, “I’ll admit, given my current position, your current complete lack of clothing, I am in a bit of a compromised situation. That situation being that I am completely intoxicated by my wife, drunk with love and,” she flashed her teeth, nipping at the skin above Myka’s navel, “ _want_. Yet…even if I didn’t find myself particularly _here_ , if I saw you simply from across the room…you’d remain…utterly…” Helena feathered a kiss to Myka’s hip. “Completely,” another kiss. “Entirely,” another kiss to Myka’s opposite hip. “Gorgeous,” a last kiss dropped to the top of Myka’s thigh.

Myka wanted to fight, to argue, to say that she still didn’t quite _feel_ how she wanted to, but looking at Helena, seeing the way that the truth was written across every inch of her, that fight fled. It was enough…in this moment…to choose to see herself how Helena saw her.

The adoration in Helena’s eyes, the desire that was pulsing off of her was enough to make Myka’s palms itch with a need to touch, to feel, to push and pull and crash Helena over the brink for as long as they could both handle it. Her desire was satisfied as suddenly Helena shifted, bringing herself up to straddle her knees against Myka’s hips, her thighs immediately drawing the attention of Myka’s fingers, which traced and pulsed against muscle as quickly as she could reach out. 

Helena laughed softly at Myka’s apparent _need_ , arching back slightly and running her own hands along Myka’s calves, stroking slowly. A teasing smirk pulled at her lips as she couldn’t quite help herself the words that left her mouth, “How are your legs feeling, love?”

Myka’s brow knit in confusion, though her fingers continued to dance across as much of Helena’s skin as she could access, “My legs?”

“Yes, darling, your legs,” Helena massaged her fingers down them once again. “Are they feeling alright? They don’t feel…tense? No impending _charley horses_ that I should be concerned with?”

Myka groaned loudly, her fingers leaving Helena’s body in order to drag down her face, “You’re seriously _never_ going to let me live that down are you?”

Helena’s smirk deepened, “Absolutely not.”

“Well, if you must know, my legs feel completely _fine_.” There was one moment’s pause, one moment where Myka’s entire demeanor shifted, as though something had just occurred to her in a flash of inspiration. She curled her fingers around Helena’s knees, and as Helena took in the arch of her brow, felt the pulse of her fingertips, she wondered how it was possible for the tables to turn quite so quickly. For all intents and purposes, _she_ should have been the one with Myka entirely at her mercy, laid out, trapped between her knees, worked up with want, and yet Helena was the one feeling as though she was entirely, completely in trouble. Myka quirked her eyebrow higher, “Ya know…I mean if you’re so concerned about the health of my legs…maybe we _should_ give them the night off. We wouldn’t want to strain them too much, because you’re right…we don’t want any more errant, charley horse inspired interruptions.”

Helena felt suddenly out of her depth, as though she was missing something entirely, something _vital_ , “Darling?”

Myka’s lips curled in a feral, teasing grin, her fingers racing up Helena’s thighs and perching precariously close to the space between them. Her voice caught for one brief second, dizzy with what she wanted to say next. She found her bearings in the pool of desire that was building in Helena’s eyes, because she finally seemed to _know_. Myka flexed her fingers, “Come here, Swagger.”

A shaky exhale skittered past Helena’s lips, but she found she had absolutely no words left to say. No teasing, coy comment to shoot back, not one ounce of swagger to muster in response to Myka’s blatant request. She slid as gracefully as she possibly could given her suddenly unstable knees to the top of the bed, until she was settled precisely where Myka had requested, _desired_ , her to be. She caught the quick flash of Myka’s gaze, felt Myka’s breath racing across the insides of her thighs, anticipated whatever words were about to come.

“If you want to talk about gorgeous…” Myka left her words hanging, choosing instead to finish her sentence with actions rather than words.

The rest of the night raced around them with much the same intention. For once in their six years, they finally decided that they truly were utterly done with talking, rather opting to speak in the easiest way they knew how. Emotions encapsulated in the echoes of sighs and keens and whispered assents. Desires articulated in the slightest urging of muscles, in the shifting of legs and thighs, fingers and lips. Love poured out in the rush of skin against skin, nails against nerve-endings, hips against hips, lips against strained tendons and valleys of muscle and bone. 

The minutes and hours of the new year ticked by without thought given to time, to sleep, to tomorrow. They were here, fully present for the now that they had together. Mouths and hands lost between thighs, breaths shared through barely parted lips, hands entwining and coming apart over and over in the quiet assurance that they were tethered, grounded here together, for tonight, for always.

Eventually, in a haze of exhaustion and near giddy contentment, they stilled, quieted, slowed their shifting bodies until they were curled together, at ease, at rest. Myka’s head reclined against Helena’s stomach, reveling in the steady flow of Helena’s fingers through her riotous hair, her own fingers continuing to slide across Helena’s skin, but without any intention other than to scribble out imaginary images and words. 

Into the quiet, Helena’s stomach shook with silent laughter. Curiously, Myka turned her head, eyeing Helena questioningly, “You alright up there? Or have I lost you to sleep deprivation inspired craziness?”

“It is possibly a combination of both.”

“Care to enlighten me?”

Helena laughed a bit more before sighing, “Do not ask me why, but I was just suddenly thinking about the fact that we’re _in a hotel_.”

Myka’s brow furrowed, “Ok, I’m definitely on the side of sleep deprived crazy…”

“We actually got a hotel.”

“Uh huh…”

“Our own wedding night…there was no hotel, and yet…now? Tonight? Hotel.”

Myka couldn’t quite explain _why_ , because it was just a simple _fact_ , but she couldn’t help but find herself lost in shared laughter. She pressed a kiss to Helena’s sternum, “Since when have we ever done anything logically, I suppose.”

“Quite right, my love. We’re are nothing if not unorthodox.”

“I choose to see it as charmingly quirky.”

“We’re quite the pair…you and I…”

Myka adjusted her position, sliding up the bed to recline against her elbow, her hand splayed out across Helena’s stomach, “I wouldn’t want us any other way.”

“Even sleep deprived and crazy?”

“ _Our own particular brand of crazy._ ”

Helena’s smile was soft, deep, utterly contented, “Something I am sure we will pass along to our darling daughter…”

“God help her…” Myka grinned.

“Whatever will she do with the two of us?”

Myka shrugged playfully, “I’m sure someday…maybe…she’ll figure it out. For now, we can appreciate that she is blissfully unaware of our quirk and crazy.”

A faint stillness passed across Helena’s face, a kind of remarkable peace, which sometimes seemed unattainable given the lives they led. It was a look Myka cherished whenever she saw it, because it gave her a visceral glimpse of just _how happy_ Helena was. Helena ran a hand through Myka’s curls, letting her fingers drift down Myka’s cheek, “I love you… _so bloody much_.”

Myka chuckled softly, “And here I thought that was my line…”

“Allow me to steal it…just this once?”

“Just this once.”

Helena arched her back enough to reach Myka’s lips for a quick, stolen hint of a kiss, “I do though. So fiercely, Myka.”

A different kind of warmth, distinct and unlike anything that had raced through her over the previous few hours, eased its way through Myka’s bloodstream, settling in her stomach with a calm surety. She flexed her fingers against Helena’s stomach, “I love you too, Swagger. _Always_.”

“Even amidst children and chaos and crazy.”

“ _Especially_ amidst children and chaos and crazy.” Myka leaned down for one more kiss, fighting against the tentative yawn that she felt creeping its way through her lungs, “Happy New Year, Helena.”

Helena sighed warmly, peacefully, “Happy New Year, my darling, darling Myka.”

They relaxed into sleep much the way that the rest of their night had gone, in quiet ease, without the need for more words than what they had already spoken, unconcerned with wake-up calls and what tomorrow would bring. They had the night…still. They had each other, in all of their perfectly imperfect craziness, in all of their chaos and scattered minutes and hours. It was Myka’s last thought as she placed one last kiss to the back of Helena’s neck before she finally closed her eyes, and she knew that no matter what, no matter how their lives twisted and turned, no matter what the chaos brought…this would always be enough. _They_ would _always_ be enough.


	2. Learning to Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Myka...  
> For Myka and Helena...  
> It was always Tom Petty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...if you've read Records, you know far too well that Tom Petty was a red thread through the whole thing. His music suffused so much of this story, tied Myka and Helena together, was such an intimate part of Myka's life.
> 
> I couldn't not write this. Myka's love for Tom Petty was a direct mirror of my own, and this was somehow the only way I could think to process the news that he's gone.
> 
> It's not super long, but it's something, and for tonight, I hope in some way that that's enough.

“I have to go.” Helena frantically hurried around the studio, grabbing her things without being fully conscious of whether or not they were actually _her_ things; she simply threw everything within reach into her bag in an effort to just _get out_.

“Uh…H.G.,” Fargo sounded hesitant, even a little worried as his voice piped into the booth, “Everything ok?”

“Everything is decidedly _not_ ok, Fargo. Which is why I am packing up my things.”

Pete, confusion and panic mixed across his face, stood up behind his drums, “H.G.! Just tell us what’s wrong, because you’re kinda freaking me out.”

Helena continued gathering her things, but threw her phone at Pete after opening it up to her Twitter feed. She saw Pete’s face go white out of the corner of her eye as he slowly sank back onto his stool. Dazedly he handed back her phone, “Shit….” Suddenly, the implication of what he had seen on the screen hit him square in the chest, his eyes clearing and widening as he looked up at Helena, “ _Shit_ …Mykes…”

“Precisely, Peter. Hence…I have to go.”

Behind them both Claudia and Steve had pulled out their own phones, had found the news for themselves and knew immediately just why Helena was in a rush to leave, recording session be damned. Claudia gathered up the rest of Helena’s journals that were stacked in a corner and handed them to her with tears in her eyes, “Go…”

“Thank you, Claud.” Helena tossed her coat over her arm and maneuvered out of the booth. She stopped, only momentarily, when she saw that Fargo was still sitting there looking utterly perplexed. She laid a hand against his shoulder, “Fargo, I am very sorry, but…but the others will explain. I just really have to get home.”

Concern creased Fargo’s forehead, “Is Myka ok?”

Helena sighed heavily, “I somehow highly doubt she is, no.”

**

“It had to be the goddamn _fall_ ,” Helena mumbled to herself as she pressed the gas pedal down harder, willing her car to just _move_. She felt numb, though she wasn’t sure if it was because of the news or purely born out of the fear of what she would find once she got home.

It felt like some awful twist of fate, some cruel joke of the universe that this would have happened today. She knew she should be thinking of the wider implication, of those truly, _intimately_ impacted, of those that were heartbroken in the midst of a real, personal loss, but all she could think about was Myka. Myka who had insisted on working a shift at The Warehouse today, who had declared as she left the house, “It’s fall, Swagger.” Her smile had been bright and beaming, “You know what that means.” She had taken a deep breath as she leaned out the door, bringing into the house the crisp waft of fall leaves and cool air. She had looked so free, so happy, so very ready for _this day_.

Helena had smiled at her, “Enjoy your Tom Petty day, love. Don’t blow out any speakers _or_ any customer’s ear drums.”

“I’ll try, but I make no guarantees,” Myka had chuckled before practically skipping out the door.

The memory washed over Helena with a force she hadn’t quite expected. She felt tears building behind her eyes as she turned on the radio, a vain attempt to distract her mind, when all she found there was every radio station in the damn city playing their own tributes. Her mind was awash in too many memories all at once; she had no idea when it had happened, but somehow this music, _his music_ , had become her and Myka’s soundtrack, they had fallen in love to these sounds, built their life around them. 

Helena had admitted to Myka very early on that Myka’s Tom Petty love was one that was going to have to grow on her. She had expected Myka to be indignant, to be shocked and appalled that Helena didn’t _get it_ , but all Myka had done was smile that crooked smile of hers and say, “Oh you just wait, Swagger. I’ll make it happen.”

And she had.  
Over and over again.

That first night at The Warehouse. Claudia’s quip about Tom Petty making Myka giddy. That first shared look between them, Myka’s soft smile and Helena’s too fast beating heart at those few simple lines, _“You move me honey…yes you do.”_

The anniversary that changed everything, so much for the better. Helena and the band surprising Myka that night at The Regents. Helena knowing that there was no better song to precede her proposal. The way Myka had sang along with her from the table, completely in awe.

The drive to the band’s first show at Red Rocks, how she and Myka had been so happy to just be in the _same place at the same time_ , how they had known in that moment that they’d finally survived the summer. She remembered with picture perfect clarity how Myka had rolled down the windows of the car and blared “Runnin’ Down a Dream,’’ how she sang at the top her lungs, because she was over the moon happy that Helena was home. How there was no better good mood music for her than Tom Petty.

How after they’d been together for barely six months, Myka had stolen Helena’s phone and changed her ringtone so that when Myka called it played “American Girl.” How all these years later…Helena still hadn’t changed it, because Myka had been so adorably pleased with herself when she’d done it, and Helena just couldn’t help but want to keep that moment forever.

The look on Myka’s face that past summer when she had realized that he was touring again. The exuberant smile she had given Helena when she said she’d gotten them tickets. It had felt like Myka was ushering her into a secret part of her life, getting to see that show, getting to experience Myka experiencing the music she loved so ardently. Myka had been ecstatic to get home and put their tickets in her collage which still hung in their bedroom. “I’ve never put in two tickets from the same show before, but this one deserves it, because this one was ours…together.”

Just last week, Claudia and Pete had convinced them all that they needed a karaoke night for some ungodly reason, and they had all gone along, because it was Claudia and Pete and they were insistent and somehow _always_ got what they wanted. Helena had been the one to suggest their song, saying that it was the perfect marriage of the music they loved, her Stevie Nicks and Myka’s Tom Petty, and so they had sang “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around,” for the whole bar to witness and made Claudia wildly uncomfortable in the process. She had fanned herself when they came back to the table, “Good Lord, you two, get a room. You’re making the rest of us married folks look bad.” Though she did end up shooting them a playful wink when no one else was looking.

The countless number of times they had sang some song or other to Charlotte to get her to sleep. It always made Myka so proud because Charlotte always seemed to respond to those songs more than any others, fighting sleep as long as she could so she could hear the whole thing.

It was too much for Helena to contemplate and she knew that if it was too much for her, then it was going to be painfully overwhelming for Myka. For as much as she just wanted to get home, a pit settled in her stomach at the prospect, because she had no idea how she was going to console Myka, had no idea if she was ready to see Myka as heartbroken as Helena knew she would be.

**

If Helena was worried before she got home, she was even more so when she walked through their house to find it woefully, unmistakably empty. No Myka, no Charlotte, no sign of anyone. As she made her way, once again, through the kitchen, her ears barely picked up on the soft pulse of music coming from outside. She stood at the back window staring out at their music room, its lights muted, and she realized she should have known. Of course Myka would retreat into the confines of that space which they had designed purely for them, to highlight the music they loved, to be a place where they could escape into nothing but sound.

Helena grabbed two bottles of cider out of the refrigerator before walking outside and across the lawn. She sucked in a deep breath as her hand wrapped around the doorknob, entirely uncertain if she was ready for what was waiting on the other side of the door. She could hear the music clearly now, pulsing through the only moderately soundproofed walls. The rhythms, the notes were now intimately familiar to her, and she felt a fresh wave of tears rise up, suddenly overwhelmed that somehow _this_ was over.

She found Myka sprawled on the couch, eyes closed, gentle tears coating her cheeks, entirely lost in the music cascading from the speakers. As Helena came up behind the couch, Myka opened her eyes, entirely attuned to Helena’s presence despite not being able to actually hear her come in properly. A soft, despairing smile barely pulled at her lips, “Hey Swagger…” 

Helena ran her hand through Myka’s curls, swiping a thumb across her cheeks, gathering tears as it went, “Hello, my darling.”

That was all it took, those few quiet words, for Myka to be overcome once again. Immediately, Helena stole to the front of the couch, pushing Myka forward so that she could slide in behind her and cradle her entirely in her arms. Helena didn’t know what to say…she didn’t think there actually _was_ anything to say, and so she just held her, tightly and securely, pressing sporadic kisses to her temples, smoothing her hair back from her forehead when she needed to. 

Myka settled firmly into Helena’s hold, finding there a kind of peace, a security that had escaped her since she had heard what still seemed impossible. Eventually, she reached down for the remote where she had abandoned it on the floor and turned the music down slightly so that they could actually talk. She ran her fingertips across Helena’s forearm, “You’re supposed to be at the studio.”

“I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” Helena tucked a kiss to Myka’s ear, finally letting herself ask the question that had been whispering in her mind since she got home, “Where’s Charlotte?”

A small chuckle escaped Myka’s lips, “Would you believe me if I said that _my dad_ came and picked her up a little bit ago?”

Helena startled slightly at the answer, “Your father?”

“Yup. He played it off that my mom was out of town and he figured he would take her off our hands for the night, that way his house wouldn’t be so quiet and we could have some time together. All totally plausible until he _hugged_ me and said he was sorry…”

“Your father…” Helena shook her head, “I think I’m at a loss for words.”

“Trust me, me too. I mean, of course my dad _knows_ how this sort of thing would get to me, but to actually _do something_ about it? We’ve made progress, sure, but this was just…”

“Unexpected.”

“That’s as good a word as any.”

They lapsed into another momentary silence, only punctuated by Myka’s occasional quiet, broken singing. 

Helena thought it was always just some sort of exaggerated _saying_ when people said that their hearts _hurt_ , but listening to Myka in that moment, hearing her voice crack around words she loved so much, Helena’s heart viscerally panged in her chest. It was a sound she hoped she would never have to hear from Myka ever again.

Song after song, the tracks clicked over, but Helena knew it had to happen eventually. Her muscles felt tense just from waiting for it to happen, and when it did, it felt even more awful than she expected. The opening guitar strains of “You Wreck Me” resounded through the room, and for Helena, it was like she was back in The Warehouse for the very first time. It always happened when she heard it; she was utterly transported, right back to that moment when she saw Myka for the first time. Tears that she had been trying to keep relatively under control finally couldn’t be contained, and she expected that Myka’s reaction would be the same, but then Myka turned to her, and she was smiling…practically beaming.

Myka reached out and thumbed away some of Helena’s tears, her fingers tracking along Helena’s jaw, “I feel like he was the soundtrack to my falling in love with you…”

Helena let out a watery laugh, “I had the same thought driving home…”

“This…this music had already given me so much, but that…you…getting to experience it all in new ways with you…I can’t put that into words.” Myka tipped her forehead against Helena’s, her breath skating across Helena’s skin. Helena could practically feel Myka’s smile against her lips even as Myka’s voice carried over the music and into her ears, _“You move me honey…yes, you do…”_

The hours trickled away in a haze of memories and melodies. They didn’t talk much, there was nothing left to say, but neither of them was inclined to leave this space, to let this moment go. It felt like it would be too much of an acknowledgment of a reality that felt unspeakable. 

As darkness descended outside, Myka once again reached for the remote with a sigh. “There’s one song we haven’t listened to yet…and then maybe we go get some dinner…some place quiet…”

Helena smiled softly, tucking another kiss to Myka’s temple, “Whatever you want, Sleepy.”

Myka pressed the skip button on the remote several times before stopping and leaning back into Helena, whispering, “We couldn’t skip this one. Not today.”

A gentle acoustic guitar echoed from the speakers. Helena realized the second it started that she should have known this would be the song, this would be how Myka wanted to end the night. It was Charlotte’s favorite song, the lullaby she responded to most, no matter how many times they sang it.

Instinctually, they both fell into their usual rhythms; Myka letting her voice float a little roughly through the first verse.

_“Well I started out…down a dirty road…started out…all alone. And the sun went down as I crossed the hill…and the town lit up…and the world got still.”_

Gently, softly, Helena let her voice rise and fall over Myka’s through the chorus, Charlotte’s favorite part of the whole song.

_“I’m learning to fly…but I ain’t got wings…coming down…is the hardest thing…”_

Helena sang through her own verse, both of their voices gaining strength and momentum as the music continued to pulse, rise and fall. When they got to the bridge, she waited with bated breath. She always loved to hear Myka sing this particular part, but she knew that tonight it was going to be hard, hard to sing, hard to hear.

Myka’s voice cracked initially, but stabilized quickly, her volume increasing as the words flowed through her.

_“Well some say life…will beat you down…break your heart…steal your crown…so I’ve started out…from God knows where...I guess I’ll know…when I get there…”_

Helena tried her best to finish the last chorus, they both did, but by the end it was too much, and so they faded out, letting the rough rasp of Tom Petty carry them through to the end.

_“But what comes up…must come down…”_

As the song quieted and quit, Myka turned off the radio. A stuttering sigh raked through her lungs as she leaned back further into Helena’s hold, “I have no idea how to process that this is it, that this is all there will ever be, that it’s just…over.”

Helena linked their hands together with a tight squeeze, “I know, my darling, but nothing can ever take away the happiness it’s brought you, brought us. We will always have those memories…always.”

Myka nodded, turning towards Helena with a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, “We’ll make it last…”

Helena smirked, “Make it last all night…” She ran a hand down Myka’s cheek, “My American girl…”

“I still can’t believe you left that as your ringtone,” Myka chuckled, shaking her head slightly.

Helena leaned forward, kissing Myka softly, “I had to. Like you said, he was, he _is_ our soundtrack…and that will never, _ever_ change.”

**Author's Note:**

> If the context wasn't evident, the song here was the one referenced in the article at the end of Records that Myka and Helena talked about with Andy.
> 
> As ever, thanks to all of you for reading and (hopefully) enjoying!
> 
> (Oh and if you're curious...  
> Jacob Patrick (J.P.) Lattimer--9/2/2014 (Named after Pete and Amanda's fathers, respectively)  
> Jason Anthony (Jace) Lattimer--1/6/2016  
> Charlotte Jean Bering-Wells--6/20/2016)


End file.
